Some mornings, this bed is a fresh-plowed field
Still ripe with dew and softly radiant;
Others, it is all scorched earth, bright yellow
Coverlet thrown off to relieve the heat;
And occasionally, it lies fallow
Waiting patiently, soaking in the sun.
I always do the same thing in the morning
No matter what the night before has brought.
With the shower singing in the next room
I tuck the sheets and gather up the dreams
Place the pillows side by side, and give thanks
For daylight, and forgiveness, and coffee.
Penguin Poems 
Love it, love it, love it! =)